Ladies Must Live Part 19

"She'll tell absolutely no one."

"Because she's perfect, I suppose?"

"Because she didn't for one moment believe me."

"Didn't believe we were engaged?"

"Didn't believe that any one could be engaged to so beautiful and charming a person as you are and not be in love with her."

Christine's manner softened slightly. "She thinks me charming?"

"She thinks you irresistible, almost as irresistible as Laura thinks you; and she is trying to find out why I am so eager to deceive her in the matter."

Christine clapped her hands, and executed a few steps. "She's jealous, too," she cried. "The perfect woman is jealous. I never thought of her suffering, too."

"She is not jealous, but I suppose it may hurt her feelings a little that I shouldn't--"

"Oh, nonsense, Max, she loves you. Do you think I could be deceived on such a subject? She watches you all the time. She loves you. And I think it would be very impertinent of her not to. I should think very poorly of her if she didn't. Imagine what she must be undergoing at this moment, by our prolonged absence."

"Perhaps, we'd better be going back," said Riatt calmly.

Christine barred the door, spreading out both her arms.

"She thinks you're making love to me, Max."

"And yet, Christine, I'm not."

"But she doesn't know that; she doesn't know what an immovable iceberg you are."

"No, indeed she doesn't."

Christine's manner again changed utterly. All the playfulness disappeared. "You mean," she said, "that you're not cold and immovable with her?"

"What's the use of my telling you anything, if you don't believe me?" The idea of teasing Christine had never occurred to him before, but he thought highly of it. She came toward him at once.

"Oh, Max, my dear," she said, "don't be horrid, when I'm having such a wretched time anyhow. Don't you think you might _pretend_ to care for me just a little?"

Riatt rose. "Yes, I do," he said, "and so I shall, in public."

Christine was all the gentle, wistful child immediately.

"Never when we're alone?" she asked.

Max lit a cigarette briskly. "I don't suppose we shall very often be alone," he returned. "After all, why should we?"

She looked at him like a wounded bird: "No reason if you don't want to."

At this moment the door opened and her father came in.

"Come, come, my dear, this is no way to treat your guests," he said. "I must really insist that you go back to the drawing-room. Upon my word, Riatt, you ought not to keep her like this."

"It was a great temptation to have her a few minutes to myself, Mr.

Fenimer," said Max, and Christine grinned gratefully at him behind her father's back.

"Very likely, very likely," said Mr. Fenimer crossly, "but I want to go to the club, and how can I, unless she goes back? You can't think only of yourself, my dear fellow."

Riatt admitted that this was true and he and Christine went back to the drawing-room.

Very soon afterwards, he gave Dorothy a keen prolonged look, which she did not misunderstand. She got up at once and said good night. In the taxicab, he questioned her at once as to her impressions.

"I didn't like Mr. Linburne or Mrs. Almar at all, Max. She kept asking me the greatest number of questions about you and the story of your life.

What interest has she in you, I wonder?"

"None," answered Riatt, but added rather quickly, "And what did you think of Linburne?"

"I couldn't bear him, though I own he's nice looking. But he told Mrs. Almar a story--I could not help hearing--I never heard such a story in my life."

"I gather it did not shock Mrs. Almar."

"She knew it already. 'Lee,' she said, 'that story is so old that even my husband knows it,' and every one laughed."

"I'm afraid you did not enjoy yourself."

"I like Mr. Hickson very much. And I thought Miss Fenimer more beautiful than before. He was telling me what a wonderful nature she has. He said he had never seen her out of temper."

"Yes, Hickson's crazy about her," said Riatt casually.

"Dear Max, why do you try to deceive yourself about your own feeling for her?"

"Deceive myself," he said angrily. "If you knew the truth, my dear Dolly!" His heart stood still. Deceive himself! What an insulting phrase. He repressed a strong impulse to propose on the instant to Dolly. That would show her how indifferent he was to Christine. It would a.s.sure him, too.

Instead he formed a plan to go home with her and her mother, when they went.

"When are you going back, Dolly?"

"The day after to-morrow."

"Any objections to my going, too?"

"Objections! Max, dear!"

He engaged his ticket at once at the hotel office. Having done so, he felt tranquil and relieved, and perhaps the least little bit dull. The clerk a.s.sured him he was fortunate to be able to get a berth at such short notice. "Very fortunate," he agreed and was annoyed at a certain cold ring in his voice.

The next day, true to his promise to show Christine all attentions that the public could expect, he sent her a box of flowers, and at four he stopped for her and they went and took a long walk together, hoping to meet as many people whom they knew as possible.

"We won't walk in the Park," said Christine. "No one sees you there, though of course if they do, it makes an impression. But, no; we'll stick to Fifth Avenue, and study all the windows that have clothes or furniture in them, as if our minds were entirely taken up with trousseaux and house-furnis.h.i.+ng."

She was true to her word, and not squeamish. Riatt found it rather amusing to wander at her side, dressing her in imagination in every garment that the windows so frankly displayed, and answering with real interest her constant inquiry: "Do you think that would become me? Would you like me in that? Do you prefer silk to batiste?"